Before I could rally my slimes, the Oculothorax retaliated in a way I hadn’t expected. A low rumble vibrated through the chamber as several of its remaining eyes lit up at once. Each glowed with a different, menacing hue, and I could feel the air thickening with a sinister energy. The Oculothorax was getting ready to do something big.

  The chamber turned into a storm of flashing lights. Its limbs were flailing around in a wild, out-of-control frenzy, and bolts of light shot in every direction. It wasn’t the methodical, calculated assault it had used earlier. No, this was panic. But even in its chaotic state, it was still incredibly dangerous.

  In that moment, uncertainty gnawed at me as I scanned the Oculothorax’s glowing eyes through the blurry slime mask. It was clear that it was just throwing everything it had out there in a frenzy. Each of its eyes had a unique ability, marked by its color—like the fire eyes being orange, the freezing one glowing blue, and so on. But it was the unused eyes that kept me on edge, the ones I hadn’t seen him use yet. That mystery was the real suspense, and it’s what had been keeping me nervous the whole fight.

  The thing was, the Oculothorax was an exceptionally tricky opponent to fight, and part of that came down to this concept in the realm of video games—the concept of "Seed." In most games, the "Seed" was a randomized element that changed with each new instance of the game. It essentially meant that no two runs would ever be the same. Every time you entered a dungeon or faced a boss, the "Seed" would determine the layout, the types of monsters that appeared, and even the specific abilities they could wield in certain cases. In Dungeon End, this concept was built into the very fabric of its design.

  With the Oculothorax, this randomness wasn’t just a gimmick—it was a real challenge. Each encounter with the creature was different, and its ability set wasn’t fixed. Every time the dungeon reset, and this floor would appear, the Oculothorax's powers were determined by the new seed, Which meant it would most likely use a completely different set of abilities than any of our previous encounters with it. This made it unpredictable. Some abilities I’d seen in past encounters back on earth, but there were still many others I hadn’t yet faced. And each time I thought I had it figured out, the Oculothorax would pull out something completely new.

  Its arsenal of abilities was huge—hundreds of possible abilities to draw from—but the encounter would always generate a unique selection of twelve. I’d already seen seven of them. Fear, freeze, fire, corrosion, petrification, slow, and daze. And right now, I had no idea what the other five abilities were.

  Right now, though, it was unleashing every single one of its powers. Its eyes lit up, glowing with the different colors of its abilities. And those colors? They weren’t anything new to me. I knew them—hues I’d seen again and again over the years, through endless playthroughs and hundreds of battles with this same boss. Every color, each one representing a power I’d learned.

  The first eye I locked onto was a white hue, pulsing with a creepy light right in the middle of its mass. This one was the Dispelling Eye, capable of neutralizing active buffs or spell effects in its line of sight. In theory, it was a devastating ability. If my slimes had any buffs or if I relied on magic, it could have crippled my forces. But against me? It was completely useless. My slimes didn’t rely on buffs or magic. This eye’s power was a non-factor.

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  The next eye, far to the right, glowed a soft pink—the Illusion Eye. It created false images in the mind, but I quickly realized it wouldn't be much of a threat to my slimes. Unlike the Fear Eye, which induced panic and disrupted my control, the Illusion Eye only created confusion. My slimes in most cases didn’t act on their own perception; they followed my commands. As long as I told them to focus on the real threat, the illusion would have little effect. It wasn’t as powerful as the Fear Eye, since it didn’t sever my control over them.

  Next to the Illusion Eye, a violet glow flickered menacingly. That was the Decay Eye, an ability that dealt damage over time as long as the victim kept its gaze locked on the eye. Unlike the Fire Eye, which caused instant lingering burns, the Decay Eye worked slower, wearing you down little by little. But there was a flaw—a glaring one. As long as the target could look away from it, the damage would stop. An ability that relied on constant eye contact to deal damage. If my slimes could avoid direct eye contact once affect by it, they’d be fine.

  But the next two eyes sent a wave of dread crashing over me, One glowing red and the other yellow. The red one, was the Shared Vision Eye. This eye allowed the Oculothorax to broadcast its vision to other monsters in the area, basically calling in backup. The moment I saw the Shared Vision Eye, I felt the floor tremble, and I heard the faintest rustling sound in the distance. I had seen this ability before—used by Eyebats.

  The stone scraping against stone, the frantic flapping of wings—it was happening. The reinforcements were coming.

  I turned toward the entrance of the chamber, and right on cue, I spotted the shadows of the Gargoyles making their way toward us. Behind them, the dark shapes of Eyebats swooped through the air, following close behind. The Oculothorax's call had done its job. Reinforcements were on the way, and we were about to face not just the boss, but a whole new wave of enemies.

  “Shit, not now...” I muttered under my breath, grinding my teeth. Reinforcements. This wasn’t just a battle for survival anymore. It was becoming a damn war. The Eyebats and Gargoyles would be here soon, and we were already barely holding on against the Oculothorax. If I couldn’t end this fight fast, we wouldn’t last much longer.

  I had to keep hitting hard and fast.

  “Focus fire! Don’t stop!” I shouted, rallying my remaining slimes. “We take the central eye now, or it’s over!”

  The Oculothorax’s limbs swung wildly, swatting at the air, trying to shove my slimes back. But even with all its chaos, it wasn’t quick enough. My slimes regrouped at my command and charged straight for its central eye. I knew we were running out of time—if we could take that big eye down, maybe we could stop its constant barrage of attacks.

  But just as we closed in on our target, the Oculothorax let out a rumbling growl. The hue of one of its remaining eyes blazed bright—yellow, the final color I hadn’t seen yet. It was the last of its arsenal, and it didn’t disappoint.

  The Blink Eye.

  A sharp pulse of yellow light rippled across the Oculothorax's massive form. I felt the air snap as the creature’s essence seemed to vanish in a blink. It was no longer where it had been. The space it once occupied was empty.

  In that instant, the Oculothorax had used the Blink Eye to teleport. It was now right in front of me, and I barely had time to register the move before the creature’s massive limb swung down towards me.

  “NO!”